The Truth about Beauty
by Philippa
Summary: When the wizard Max's plan to milk rich aristocrats goes awry, he finds himself enchanted, along with his princely host. Max must help the prince find true love to break the curse, but the prince isn't cooperating.
1. Comeuppance

**A/N** A retelling of my all time favorite fairy tale!

**The Truth About Beauty**

Chapter 1: In which a Wizard and a Prince get their Comeuppance

It happened the way it happened because of a minor wizard by the name of Maximilian Charlatani. Max wasn't bad, as wizards go, but he failed to attract the patronage of a noble lord with his magically trained operatic rats and out-of-thin-air strawberry-rhubarb tarts, particularly since they were heavy on rhubarb and light on sugar (the tarts, not the rats, who were heavy on Wagner).

Max, always a clever lad, wasn't about to waste his life magicking warts off for the local merchants. When wizardry failed him as a career, he pursued another of his talents: flattery. Max was a master sycophant. No one knew better how to feed a wealthy man's ego, and he did not hesitate to do a little well-judged boot-licking when necessary. Before long, the talented Max was installed as a court entertainer on the estate of the local baronet. This, in his view, was only a stepping stone to greater things.

Max had, in the lonely and somewhat hungry days when he was teaching the rats the words to _Die Walküre_, had an idea whose potential would carry him into the highest courts of the land. He was going to write a book, an enormous book, about every one of the royal peerage in the kingdom of Fliddle. It would be titled

A Comparison of the Aristocratic Persons of Fliddle in Order to Determine, by Examination of their Mannerisms and Habitations, Which Be the Most Truly Noble

Max would travel from court to court, surveying the ways in which the various lords and ladies of the kingdom lived, in order, as the title of the book explained, to determine which of them was the most noble. Of course, every aristocrat would want to win the title of "Most Noble" for himself and would show Max the best of everything. The kingdom of Fliddle, being divided into no less than eighty-four principalities, was replete with every type and rank of nobleman, and it would take Max several years to visit them all. By the end of this time he planned to have collected money enough from nobles bribing him to give them a better ranking in the book, that he would be able to retire to a nice palace in a hot climate and hire pretty girls to serve him sherbet.

The plan worked exactly as Max had envisioned it. The nobles all but fell over themselves to be next on Max's list. After two and a half years of high living, his palace/pretty girl/sherbet fund was already adding up to a large figure.

It was about this time that the wheedling wizard found himself lodged in the Castle of Savage Mountain, just as the first snows of winter set in.

Contrary to its name, Savage Mountain proved to be a pleasant place, even in the winter. The mountain was only a little one, covered with a lush forest perfect for hunting. Hunting was what the prince of Savage Mountain did best. Although Max didn't much care for chasing deer through the snow, he found plenty to do inside the castle, flirting with the ladies and enjoying the magnificent meals prepared six times a day. Even without bribery, the principality was well on its way to the top of Max's "most noble" list. Everything was going splendidly, until the winter solstice boar hunt.

The prince of Savage Mountain wasn't a bad sort. If the history books can be trusted (doubtful) he had only two faults: 1) he was a terrible tennis player and 2) he cared about nothing but hunting. Morning, noon, or night, you could bet your last silver penny that the prince, if not actually hunting, would be talking about his latest kill, or examining his equipment, or picking out the horse he would ride through the forest the next day. The walls of the castle were lined with mounted heads.

On the evening of the winter solstice, the prince was in a very good mood as he rode home from the day's hunt. He was sweaty and covered with the blood of the giant boar seven of the servants were struggling to drag along. It had been a particularly vicious boar, and the prince liked nothing better than a rousing fight. His horse trotted into the courtyard, and the prince dismounted, whistling as he tossed his reins to a groom. He never noticed the old woman until she stepped in his path.

"A very large boar, you have there, my prince," she cackled.

The prince, always vulnerable to praise concerning his favorite hobby, smiled delightedly. "Yes, isn't it? He was a real fighter too." He puffed out his chest so that the woman would be certain to catch sight of the prominent blood stains coating his shirt.

The crone's eyes glittered beneath the hood of her cloak. "But tell me, my prince, why did you need so large an animal?"

"Er…" The prince was caught off guard. He'd never before had to explain his belief that big=good. It was at this crucial moment that Max entered the courtyard. The prince brightened. "I had to get a big one because we're being rated, don't you know? Chap over there is writing a book, _Most Noble Comparisons of Fliddle Examinations_, or, er, something like that. At any rate, what sport could be more noble than hunting? Savage Mountain has to make a good show, after all." The prince was quite pleased with his explanation, considering that he'd thought it up right there on the spot, when thinking wasn't even one of his strong points.

"A good show?" The old woman's voice had an edge to it. "You sacrificed the boar's life for the sake of appearance?"

"Yes," the prince said happily. "And he'll appear just fine over the hearth in the great hall."

The old woman shrieked in rage. Lightning flashed, and when the spot faded from the prince's vision he saw …

Well, one wouldn't describe her as beautiful, but she was certainly imposing with those fourteen inch tusks waving over his head from her height of nine feet. "I happened to be that boar's fairy godmother," roared the fairy godmother.

"My dear madam, I had no idea!" said the prince, and even though he wasn't a coward, he took a large step back.

"I have a problem with my godson's being slaughtered for the sake of some worthless prince's vanity!" There were flecks of spit flying off the fairy's tusks.

"Most ghastly mistake. Never intended the least offense in the world, I assure you! In fact, I'd no idea the pig had any relatives at all. Seemed a lonesome type chap."

The fairy wasn't impressed. "Everybody is related to somebody, you nitwit. Don't think for one minute that you're going to get away with this."

"I say!" The prince fingered his collar nervously. "You can't kill a prince!"

The fairy drew a deep, calming breath. "No, I can't," she admitted reluctantly. "Fairy godmothers can't kill anyone. Union regulations."

The prince was visibly relieved.

"But don't think," roared the fairy, "that there aren't things worse than death."

At this point, Max tried to make a discreet exit. He was halfway over the drawbridge when the fairy caught sight of him.

"Not so fast you little boot-licking, yellow-bellied rat!" she thundered, and froze him where he stood, with one foot suspended in midair. "I'll deal with you in a minute."

The fairy now drew herself up and cleared her throat. A dignified expression crossed her hairy face, and she obviously felt strongly about whatever she was going to say. "As a registered member of the godparents' union, and a recognized participant in the poetic justice league, I hereby have the duty," she smiled nastily, "and very great pleasure, of punishing you for the unjustified slaughter of my godson. I hereby condemn you, the Prince of Savage Mountain, to take on the form of a beast. And since you are so concerned with appearance, you shall keep this form until such time as you can convince some unfortunate maiden to see beyond your exterior. Let's see how you enjoy being the hunted."

She now turned her attention the immobile Max. "As for you, you spineless parasite, you will share his fate until the spell is broken." There was a clap of thunder, a puff of smoke that smelled like bacon, and the fairy disappeared.

_To Be Continued_

**A/N **Thanks so much for reading! I'd really appreciate a quick review. If you are enjoying the story, please check out my original (co-authored) novel, The Magi Letters, currently being serialized on my blog: www dot themagiletters dot blogspot dot com. Or just click the homepage link on my profile!


	2. Button

**A/N** Ok, I did rip a little bit of this chapter off from Tolkien. If you're going to steal, steal from the best!

Chapter 2: In which Max looks for a Girl and finds a Button

The Beast, for beast the prince now was, stood seven feet tall, not including the twisted horns on the top of his head. Two ferocious tusks protruded on either side of his snout, and he was very, very hairy. The Beast looked down at himself, then threw back his head and emitted a blood curdling howl. He sprang across a nearby horse and bounded over the drawbridge, never noticing the pitiful donkey who huddled next to the gatepost.

It was a full week before the Beast returned to the castle. During that time, those who could flee, fled. The servants, as a side effect of the fairy's curse, found themselves invisible and unable to leave the castle. (On the bright side, being invisible did have its advantages, as the quickly diminishing treasury and pantry proved.) Max skulked around various corners of the castle until a switch wielded by an invisible hand drove him out to the stables. There he nosed his way into the oat bags, found a more or less comfortable pile of straw, and settled down to wait for the Beast's return.

He came bounding in one fine, moonlit night, shaking snow off his fur and growling for a fire. Apparently, he could smell the servants even if he could not see them, and a few well placed swipes of the paw went a long way toward restoring order. When Max at last managed to sneak into the castle, he found the Beast stretched in front of a roaring hearth, chewing on a large, bloody something.

Max heehawed to catch his attention and began, "Your highness, I'm delighted you've returned."

"What?" The Beast turned and peered at him curiously. "Hullo! I didn't know there were other talking animals about."

"Only me," Max replied glumly. "I was the wizard who was writing the book on the most noble aristocrats."

"Oh yes, I remember. The old sow got you too, eh? Bit of bad luck for you." He ripped a great hunk out of his dinner and looked at Max reflectively. "If I mounted your head on my wall, would you still be able to talk?"

"Absolutely not. But about this curse, your highness …" Max paused as the Beast resumed his noisy chewing, hoping that he was still listening. "It was bad luck, but there's nothing we can do about it but fulfill the fairy's conditions."

"Conditions?" the Beast mumbled with his mouth full.

"Yes," Max answered impatiently, "the conditions for breaking the spell."

The Beast swallowed, and a look of surprise crossed his shaggy features. "Break the spell? Why would I do that?"

Max brayed in shock. "To be human again!"

The Beast laughed, a great roaring rumble that rattled the candlesticks on the mantel. "I don't want to be human. I love being a Beast."

"I don't understand," Max stuttered.

The Beast bounded up, a horrible grin full of sharp teeth splitting his face. "Of course you can't, old fellow, not in that form. But it's the most wonderful thing! The silent speed I achieve is unbelievable! And then there are these." The Beast extended a paw and three inches of shining claw appeared. "More efficient than any hunting knife ever invented, I give you my word. That fairy did me a bigger favor than she dreamed." He chuckled again, deep in his cavernous chest.

Max neighed in soft dismay. Hunting! If the prince could hunt better as a beast than as a man, then it was only natural he would want to remain in his transformed state, and Max would be forced to stay with him. The wizard thought fast. "It must be wonderful," he offered in what he hoped was an envious tone. (He had trouble conveying subtleties with the donkey's vocal tract.)

"It is," the Beast sighed blissfully, once again throwing himself down before the fire.

Max trotted a little closer. "But, I still think you'd be better off as a human."

The Beast snorted. "Are you mad? This is a dream come true." He gnawed on a bone.

"For now," Max agreed. "But word of this will spread. Mighty hunters will come after you. Imagine the acclaim to be had by mounting your head on a wall."

The Beast clicked his claws together. "Let them come. I think they'll regret it. Have I told you that I can see better in the dark than I can in sunlight?"

Max persisted, "Even if you defeat the hunters, the next thing you know, your neighbors will be marching in. Even you can't fight a whole army. Once they've killed you, someone else will take over your land. Someone else will live in this beautiful castle. And someone else will enjoy the excellent hunting to be had in your forest."

The Beast was silent for a long while. "I hadn't thought of that," he at last admitted.

"Better a live prince than a dead beast," Max encouraged.

The Beast emitted a low growl. "You're right. I won't have anyone else hunting in these woods. What do we have to do?"

"It's really very simple. The fairy used a standard enchantment." Max trotted forward, then hesitated. "You don't find donkey appetizing, do you?"

"Donkey? Oh no, terrible stuff." The Beast scratched his stomach. "Now horse, horse is another matter." He licked his chops and grinned.

Max repressed a shudder and began to explain.

* * *

_Nobody that anybody would miss_, thought Max as he trotted down the alley. _We don't want a search party after the girl before she's had a crack at the spell_. The city represented his best chance of finding a stray maiden, and so here he was, trotting down garbage strewn alleys, keeping an eye out for likely prospects.

Dusk fell, and the narrow passageways grew dark. Max continually cast a nervous eye over his shoulder. _I ought to be sitting on a pile of cushions, flirting with an overweight duchess right now,_ he thought miserably. _Plague take that Prince and his infernal hunting. I'll be lucky if I get out of here alive. _At that moment, a hard hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed hold of one of his ears. A rough rope was wrapped around his neck, and before Max could so much as hee, much less haw, he was dragged through a dark doorway, and the bolt slammed behind him.

A smoky fire lit a room full of shadows and gleaming things like tin cans and eyes and knives.

"He looks plump," rasped one of shadows. "I've never had roast donkey before."

"Who said anything about roasting?" protested another shadow. "He'll stretch farther if we put him in a stew."

"Don't be stupid," argued a third voice. "We've not got anything else to put in a stew."

As the cookery argument gained heat and volume, Max looked around for a way out. The door was to the side of the main group of ruffians, but even if he did succeed in reaching it, it looked like a stout one that would stand up to even his strong back hooves.

Max felt a hand patting along his side, pausing here and there to pinch. "Yes, a good fat donkey," came the whisper. "We'll not go to bed hungry."

"You wouldn't really want to eat me, would you?" Max whispered back. "I have it on the best authority that donkeys taste extremely nasty."

"Oh yes we would," the owner of the inquisitive hands replied. "We're hungry! Doesn't matter how it tastes."

His eyes had now adjusted to the firelight, and Max turned his head to get a look at his assessor. It was a girl, very dirty and skinny, but a girl nonetheless.

"Listen," hissed Max, "if you'll help me escape I'll take you to a place where you'll never go hungry again."

"Liar," replied the girl.

Max twitched an offended ear. "I most certainly am not."

The girl sniffed. "All donkeys are liars."

"Says who?" Max demanded.

The girl's eyes slid shiftily. "Oh, everybody."

"Everybody my foot … hoof. I bet you've never even met a talking donkey before."

"Well…" she hesitated.

"Listen, why do you suppose I can talk?" Max demanded.

Her brow wrinkled and she appeared to think very hard. "Magic?" she at last ventured.

"Yes, exactly." Max nodded his long face eagerly. "And magic can produce all sorts of wonderful things. Including food."

"Huh," the girl looked thoughtful. "Maybe."

"We're running out of time," Max hissed urgently. The argument by the fire seemed to be dying down. "If they cook me, that's the end of the magic."

"You promise?" she demanded.

"Yes, I promise, now let's go." Max took a step toward the door.

"Why should I? All donkeys are liars. Everybody says so," the girl whispered gleefully, and stuck something sharp into Max's haunch.

Fortunately, his bray of pain was drowned out by a burst of shouting: "No, no, if you boil him he'll turn into glue!"

Spurred on by this alarming remark, Max squinted his eyes, wiggled his left ear, then his right, and with a poof, a strawberry-rhubarb tart appeared between his hooves. A very small one, probably as sour as Old Scrooge, but a tart nonetheless. The girl sprang on it with a squeal, and stuffed the entire thing into her mouth.

"Now," Max snapped, "we're leaving!"

It was none too soon, for the group before the fire had just decided on shish kabobs, and were arguing about whose knife to use for the skinning.

Max and his rescuer crept across the room. The shadows were thick around the doorframe, but the bolt stuck. The girl threw her whole weight against it, and the slide at last gave way with a loud shriek.

"What was that?" demanded one of the hoarse voices.

"On my back!" cried Max, and winced as the girl clutched two fistfuls of mane and heaved herself up. Max tore down the alley, his hoofs clattering loudly on the cobblestones, as a stream of armed and starving ruffians raced after him.

* * *

"Are you certain she can do it?" the Beast demanded.

Max, exhausted by his all night run, lay on his back in front of the fire, all four feet stuck in the air. "She's a girl, isn't she? All you have to do is make her fall in love with you. In your situation, you can't be picky."

The Beast grunted and dug his claws into the plush carpet. "I just hope there's something left under all that dirt."

There was, even if it was only skin and bones. However, once they'd fed her some, Max conceded that the girl, whose unlikely name was Button, looked human. When she had eaten more, he even began to consider her attractive. And when she'd eaten yet more, she became a rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, healthy-looking lass. She wasn't phased by the Beast either, although that wasn't surprising for a girl who had lived with a bunch of cutthroats. The problem was that her attraction to the Beast never went beyond simple acceptance. Her fascination with food, on the other hand, absolutely did.

Button loved to eat. It was probably the result of such a long time spent being hungry, but she was as passionate about eating as the Beast was about hunting. At any time of day or night, Button could be counted on to have a morsel of something in her hand. She soon made friends with the invisible cook and even began whipping up a few of her own recipes in the vast kitchens.

"All she talks about is food," complained the Beast, as he and Max lounged on their favorite hearth. "Soufflés and crèmes and filet mignon."

"You like to eat," pointed out Max.

"Yes, but I like it raw." The Beast ran his long red tongue over his sharp teeth. "Raw," he repeated dreamily.

Maw wiggled his long ears nervously. It seemed to him that the Beast was growing more beastlike every day. Button was not having the taming influence he had hoped. "Humor her," he begged. "It's just until the spell is broken. You don't even have to marry her if you don't want. Why don't you bring back something for her to cook?"

The Beast yawned and stretched. "If I must, I must," he growled, and stalked out of the room.

The next day, Max was gratified by an encounter with an excited Button. "He's going to bring me an entire deer!" she enthused. "I'm on my way to mix up the marinade."

Max watched her plump figure bounce down the hallway until it disappeared around a corner.

That evening the Beast walked into the library with a subdued air.

"Hunting poor?" Max inquired sympathetically. "Couldn't you get Button her deer?"

The Beast cleared his throat. "There's a slight problem."

Max's ears twitched forward. "What? I'm certain she'll be just as satisfied with something else. As long as it's edible."

"Oh, it was very edible," said the Beast, and licked his lips.

Max wrinkled his hairy brow. "Then what's the problem?"

The Beast's gaze slid from the donkey's. "I ate it," he said.

"You ate Button's deer?"

"No. I ate Button."

Max's long jaw dropped in horror. "No! Tell me you didn't!"

"I couldn't help it!" the Beast growled defensively. "There she was, so plump and tender, going on and on about all the ways to prepare venison. I really couldn't help myself."

"Do you want to be human again or don't you?" Max yelled.

"No," the Beast answered casually. "Not really." He turned and sauntered out of the room.

_To Be Continued_

**A/N** I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Review! And check out my original (co-authored) novel at: themagiletters dot blogspot dot com.


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